


Ice

by TuppingLiberty



Series: TLIB FFC 2021- original works [24]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Car Accidents, Cat, Head Injury, M/M, Pre-Slash, Rescue, Snow and Ice, everything is going to be okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29762019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty
Summary: FFC Day 24: IceFeaturing a guy, down on his luck, caught in a snowstorm; a car accident; and a rescue by a handsome cowboy, because handsome cowboys are my kryptonite.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: TLIB FFC 2021- original works [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138628
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15
Collections: February Ficlet Challenge 2021: Apocalypse No





	Ice

Casey’s hands are squeezing the steering wheel, white-knuckled as he sits forward and peers into the dark, swirling abyss. At least his entire life possessions packed into the back of the car add some weight, but the road is treacherous and Casey is so, so tired. 

Tacocat gives a plaintive meow from the passenger seat. His cage is strapped in with the seat belt, the seat warmer on blast beneath him, and Casey spares a hand to pat the top of the cage comfortingly. 

“Believe me, buddy, I want to be out of this as much as you do.” 

He shouldn’t have run, probably. Should’ve tried to tough it out in his car in Oklahoma City a few more nights, but the coming winter storm had scared him, and he’d wanted to try to beat it. 

Instead, he’s ended up on a lonely highway. He hasn’t even seen a semi in an hour. He has a sneaking suspicion they’ve actually closed the road and he somehow missed the cutoff, got trapped in between or something. 

Tacocat meows louder, a yowl really, echoing in his tiny car. “I know, I  _ know.”  _

Casey’s just so tired and stressed, but he keeps his eyes on the road, navigating the drifting snow. 

It’s not even the white stuff that gets him, but what must be a patch of black ice. He spins out, doing a 720 on the highway before ending up in the ditch at the side, and banging his head  _ hard _ in the process. The last thing he hears before everything goes black is Tacocat’s indignant yowling. 

Casey blinks awake slowly. He’s wonderfully warm, and there’s a heavy weight on his chest that can only be Tacocat. For a minute, he thinks he’s died, maybe frozen to death in his car, but it’s not so bad, is it, if this is the afterlife. 

And then his headache kicks in, piercing behind his eyes. He tries to open them and winces, groaning. 

There’s some thudding that Casey distantly realizes is the sound of boots on wood flooring, and then a shadow passes over his eyes, and someone is pressing something cool and wet to his face. It feels heavenly. 

“The Doc said it’d be okay to give you some painkillers. Wants me to haul you in for an MRI as soon as we can manage it, though, and keep you comfortable until then.” 

The voice is low, gruff almost, and Casey attempts to open his eyes again. All he can make out is handsome, and cowboy, and young. Maybe his age, even. 

“My name is Tate, and you’re at the Lucky U Ranch.” 

“Lucky me,” Casey manages, surprised when Tate snorts. “C’mon, you have to have heard that one before.” 

“Oh, I have. Just happy to hear you in good enough spirits to crack wise. When I found you, I wasn’t sure you were going to make it. Wouldn’t have seen you, even, but for your cat yowling up a storm. Like an alarm bell.” 

Whatever he’s lying on - Casey has the impression it’s a bed - depresses as Tate sits down beside him, pressing two pills into his hand. “I have water, when you’re ready to try.” 

Casey gears himself up, pops the pills in his mouth, and slits his eyes open just enough to see the water as he takes a sip. It feels nice and cool on his throat. “I’m Casey, by the way.” 

Tacocat meows in his ear, and then he hears the cat lapping at the water too while Tate chuckles again. 

“Feed him the best, if he saved me.” 

“You got it. Nothing but tuna for this guy.” 

“Tacocat.” 

There’s a pregnant pause as Tate seemingly digests this new information. 

“Tacocat?” 

“I found him in a Taco Bell dumpster. It seemed to fit.” 

Tate laughs again, even as Casey remembers his car - the entirety of his worldly possessions - and tries to get up. “Hey, hey. You need to rest now. Besides, there’s nowhere to go, we’ve still got a few hours of storm to weather.” 

“My car, my stuff-” 

“I grabbed your wallet, your cell phone and keys. Was the best I could do under the circumstances, and I could fit them in the cat cage before strapping it onto my horse.” 

“You...brought me here on your horse?” 

“Well, no one should be driving in this weather, that’s for sure.” 

“Tell me about it.” Casey tries to relax into the bed. “But you left it all locked up, right? It’s not going to get damaged or anything?” 

“I did my best. Tell you what, as soon as we’re clear to take you to the doc, I have a friend who can go haul the car out of the ditch for you.” 

“Did the car look...driveable?” 

“Hard to say.” 

Casey sags, his fingers automatically finding Tacocat’s fur and petting through it, trying to use it to calm himself. 

“Listen, Casey, you can stay here as long as you need to.” 

Casey’s quiet for a moment. “What makes you think I need a place to stay?” 

“Out of state plates, car packed up, no one’s called your phone and you haven’t asked me to contact anyone…” He can hear Tate’s shrug in his voice. “Like I said, you can stay here as long as you need to. We can put you to work if you need, once you’re feeling better. And I can definitely pick up some real cat chow when I have a chance.” 

Casey’s surprised by the sound he makes - it’s sort of a laugh-sob, and it kills his head, so he tries to quiet down. Instead, he just nods. “That sounds good.” 

Tate’s fingers trail over his shoulder, then give a short squeeze of comfort. A bit like when Casey pets Tacocat. “Why do you try to sleep for a little bit more? Like I said, the storm’s got a few hours left in it yet, and then there’ll be clean up. I’d guess we won’t be able to get you to the doc until mid-afternoon at the earliest. Rest up now. Things’ll look better soon.” 

There’s something about the cowboy’s quiet demeanor, his calming, non-threatening reassurance, that has Casey complying. Maybe things  _ are _ looking up. With a small sigh, Casey relaxes.   


**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
